


A New World - Together

by h34rt1lly (LILYisatig3r)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude is a sweetheart, Claudeleth, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Established Relationship, F!Byleth, F/M, Feels, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Post-Game(s), Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Wedding, Spoilers, They're so sweet it hurts, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, gooey feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22095088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LILYisatig3r/pseuds/h34rt1lly
Summary: A gift for my dear friend and sister-wife, @sparksparksparks.At the end of everything, when all seems lost, they've come together again.After Claude saves Byleth and the soldiers of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, ending the long battle raging in the fields beyond Derdriu, Byleth can hardly believe he's come back to her. Soon enough, they're wed as he promised, and their advantageous marriage uniting both Fódlan and Almyra pleases many. But Byleth and Claude only see each other.Post-Golden Deer route, post-wedding fluff with a sprinkle of paprika (and by paprika, I mean smut).
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 113





	A New World - Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparksparksparks](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sparksparksparks).



> Yeehaw, this is the first time I've written for Fire Emblem: Three Houses, having just finished my first play-through of the game shortly before Christmas (I did Blue Lions my first time through, if anyone was curious. Currently working on Black Eagles). I loved everything about it and everyone in it, and *sobs into hands*
> 
> It's all thanks to sparksparksparks who bought me the game for Christmas, so when she commissioned a fic with Claudeleth post-wedding fluff and, of course, smut, so I had to deliver what we've dubbed a Comfort Sandwich (tm). 
> 
> This is post-Golden Deer route with Byleth as leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, and Claude as King of Almyra. I haven't actually played Golden Deer yet, just researched Claudeleth's supports and end-game info, so please feel free to correct me if there's inconsistencies with the end-setting. I know BE and BL had multiple different ending options, so I imagine GD did, too??
> 
> That being said, I'll ride off now *speeds off on a horse with her lasso circling in the air* ENJOY!
> 
> Thanks to @raineraine for beta-reading :3

As the piercing clang of metal on metal rings out across the plains, Byleth Eisner thinks to herself that all battlefields are the same. 

They all share the same elements of chaos and death: the desperate cries of soldiers fighting for their lives, some winning, some losing; the sharp tang of blood, freshly spewing from the soft juncture between neck and shoulder, soaked into the dirt beneath her heeled boots; the acrid scent of gunpowder and smoke, laced with the stinging spark of magic. 

No . . . they never change. And with the continual ebb and flow of the tides of war, it is likely that she will not either.

She swung her arm down, bringing the Sword of the Creator clashing against an Imperial soldier’s pauldron. It was a sloppy strike, the edge of the Hero’s Relic glancing off the metal where she’d originally aimed a killing blow. 

She was tiring, making mistakes—Goddess knows they all were. If they did not end this battle soon, the peace they had fought so hard for would be lost, as if it was never theirs to begin with. The sacrifices of her friends, her  _ students _ , all for naught. The ideal, perfect world that Claude had fought so hard to achieve would never be attained. He would never come back to Fódlan, to  _ her _ .

There was no room for failure. Derdriu was the last hope, the last stand.  _ We have to win _ , she thought with a grimace as she deflected the counter-attack from the Imperial soldier. 

The force of the blow vibrated through Byleth’s shoulder, jarring the bone and eliciting a wince from her. Shaking it out, she whirled in the opposite direction as she crouched low, catching the soldier on the side of the knee with the flat of her blade. He crumpled, not expecting the hit to land so low. When he collapsed on the other knee, she rose to her full height and brought the blade down upon him. 

Though she’d won her own battle this time, the cries around her signified that her fellow soldiers were not so lucky. Some carried on, moving from Imperial soldier to Imperial soldier. Others were felled where they stood, their lives given in the name of freedom and peace. 

If this continued on for much longer, how many would be left to enjoy that peace? 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a fierce cry from behind her, and she barely turned in time to block the mighty blow from an axe that might’ve ended things right then and there—a blow not unlike the one that  _ had  _ taken her life when she’d stepped in front of Edelgard, all those years ago. When she’d met Sothis, when everything had changed. 

The end of the beginning, as it was. This time, it could’ve very well been the end of . . . the end. 

The hook of the enemy’s axe slid along her blade, pressing the sword dangerously close to her throat. Her arms were weakened by the seemingly never-ending fighting, and she struggled to hold her ground against the sheer strength of the mountain of a man in front of her. He shouted as he pushed even harder, and she stumbled, catching herself before she fell to the ground. 

His voice was muffled by the helmet he wore, only his eyes and the point of his chin visible, but his next war cry was unbridled, fierce in its intensity. For the first time since the beginning of this long battle, Byleth wondered if perhaps she would not survive this. 

Eventually, her arms gave out, and she fell back as the soldier feinted, raising his arms in preparation to deal the final blow. 

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him, gaze trained on the sharp edge of the axe, the edge that would take her life. The sun glinted off the metal, and far above her, above the plains soaked with blood, littered with the bodies of her fellow soldiers, she heard the faint caw of a massive bird. 

It was beautiful, a haunting reminder that even once they were all gone, the world would continue living on as it always had. She hoped it would be uninhibited, free to develop as it should, free to be the way it was  _ meant  _ to be without the taint of human politics and war. 

As the axe came swinging down, another fierce roar of a warrior rang out from the east, followed by the deafening boom of multiple wings flapping high above. 

_ Are those . . . wyverns? But who would— _

Startled, the Imperial soldier faced the interruption, as did Byleth. Before she could see whose banners flew along the horizon, she unsheathed the dagger at her belt and quickly stabbed upwards, the blade finding purchase in the enemy’s abdomen. His head swiveled back so quickly, it would’ve been comical if not for the shock in his eyes. He gurgled, blood dripping down his chin as his hand slowly drifted to the blade in his gut. 

Mercifully, she withdrew the blade, rising to her feet once more as the soldier collapsed onto the dirt. Thanks to the mysterious reinforcements, she would live to see another day. 

The allied soldiers, atop their wyverns and riding across the plains on their cavalry, swarmed the enemy’s forces, curving in from the rear of their formation to sweep around to the front. Slowly but surely, the enemies fell, until there were more banners with the church’s crest, and this new mystery force, than Imperial red. 

Suddenly blinded by the bright glint of gilded metal, Byleth shielded her eyes as she looked upwards into the sky. At the front of the flying mounts, a heavily armored wyvern caught her eye, sporting yellow and black colors. That could only mean one thing . . . 

As soon as that thought flashed through her mind, the wyvern quickly separated from the rest of the fleet and dove for the ground. When she realized it was heading in her direction, she took an apprehensive step back, seeing nothing but the vague shape of a man in golden armor, his equally ornate cape whipping through the air behind him.

When he was close enough for her to discern the Almyran crest on the banner draped across the wyvern, pinned under the rider’s saddle, her breath caught in her throat. Only one person could wear such flamboyant armor, riding point in such a massive army.

The King of Almyra.  _ Claude _ . 

His wyvern landed upon the dirt with a thud, tan clouds swirling up and around the beast’s waxen limbs. The wyvern’s head was raised, blocking her view of Claude, but she knew it was him. She  _ knew _ , could feel him, so close to her. 

Closer than he’d been in months. Close enough to reach out and touch. Once his leg was swung over the side of the saddle and the toe of his armor-clad boot had barely grazed the dirt, Byleth barrelled into him, embracing him so hard her chin knocked on his breastplate. 

She felt more than heard the whoosh of air leaving his lungs, unable to focus on anything else but the way he felt in her arms. Granted, his armor was . . . not comfortable to hold, but it was real, tangible. It was here.  _ He  _ was here.

A quiet chuckle left Claude as he fully dismounted and faced her head-on. When his arms encircled her shoulders, making her feel small and protected—a feeling she was not entirely used to, if she was being completely honest—she felt the sting of tears. 

Before Garreg Mach, before  _ Claude _ , crying hadn’t been a feeling she was familiar with. She’d always kept her emotions close to her chest, not due to any particularly traumatic experience or lesson learned. Simply because the life of a mercenary did not allow for being swept away by emotion. She had to be completely aware of herself, of her surroundings, never to be distracted by the swell of panic or fear. 

But from the moment she met Claude, life had been overwhelmingly  _ colorful _ . It was infused with laughter, with warmth, with the radiance of his smile. And that was what she felt now, held safe within his arms. It was as if the pain and stress, borne alone, of the past few months had simply melted away once she was enveloped in  _ him _ .

Softly, he nuzzled her hair with his lips, tracing a path to her temple. When he planted a gentle kiss there, the tears welling in her eyes finally spilled over, trailing down her cheeks. 

In a quiet voice, he said, “Hey, Teach. Sorry I’m late but uh . . . I’m home.”

He rested his hand atop the crown of her head, caressing her hair in a comforting gesture. As she let out a long exhale, feeling the tension of the battle, of his absence, finally leave her, she let her eyes slide shut in relief. 

“Welcome home, Claude.”

* * *

_ Two months later . . . _

It was said that the union joining Almyra and the United Kingdom of Fódlan was a wedding with no equal, incredible enough to be remembered and spoken about for ages. Friends from far and wide who had once been at Garreg Mach Monastery with the newly-wedded couple, all those years ago, came to give their well-wishes for a life full of happiness. The day was rife with smiles and laughter, and an aura of love permeated the Monastery grounds where the wedding was held. 

Leaders from both kingdoms came for the nuptials, much to the surprise of no one. With such a political marriage, there was too much at stake for those who fancied themselves in power to  _ not  _ be present—even with the obvious reminder that the celebration was for the King of Almyra and the leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan.

Despite the sheer amount of pressure riding on their marriage, Byleth found that she could only focus on one thing: the feel of Claude’s hand within her own. It was the single most prominent sensation that had kept her grounded throughout the entire day, hectic as it had been. 

As they stood together on the balcony overlooking the fields below the Monastery, all she could think about was the warmth of his palm. Though she could feel the callouses on the pad of skin just below his fingers, his touch was soft in a way she couldn’t put into words. It comforted her, offered validation that he was truly standing beside her, that the feel of his shoulder brushing against hers was not a dream but reality.

Looking up at her new husband’s profile, Byleth found herself holding her breath at the sight. 

The ever-present smirk teasing at the corners of Claude’s lips was still there, hinting at the playfulness in his nature that had never faded from his younger years. The curve of his high cheekbones served as the frame for his eyes, their deep emerald green glinting in the fading light of day. 

As a student at Garreg Mach years ago, Claude’s golden face had been free of blemishes, scars, and painted with the smoothness of youth. Now, he’d seen numerous battles and bore the weight of leading the Almyran people. The faintest of lines nested at the corners of his eyes, and a dusting of facial hair lined the sharp edge of his jaw—proof that he had little time to spare for grooming, nowadays. 

That, or he found it more dashing than he cared to admit aloud.

Truth be told, she rather liked it. It showed his growth into the man he was now, and was proof that, through the years she’d been mysteriously asleep, her love had lived on in him. He’d grown older, wiser, and  _ yes _ , more dashing, she thought with a soft laugh.

The sound caught her husband’s attention, and Claude looked into her eyes, his smirk growing into a wide, genuine smile reserved just for her. “And just what could be  _ so  _ funny on our wedding day, Teach?”

Byleth refrained from rolling her eyes, a gesture far too casual and immature for the leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan—and she supposed the now-Queen of Almyra. “I’ve told you numerous times to not call me that anymore,” she teased. “I’m no one’s professor now.”

He hummed in response, turning so they were facing one another. An errant breeze fluttered the short bangs draped across his forehead, strands he’d never been able to tame, and she resisted the urge to reach up and push them back. Apparently, he shared no such reservations and tucked a strand of mint hair behind her ear. 

“Maybe not anymore but . . . you’ll always be ‘Teach’ to me,” Claude said quietly, his gaze softening as he stared at her.

Bathed in the golden, warm tones of the setting sun, he looked absolutely radiant. She could hardly believe this day had come, that they were now husband and wife. His faint touch ghosting along her cheek grounded her in the moment. She leaned into his palm, thanking Sothis, or whoever was listening, for bringing them back together again.

Instead of pulling his hand away, his thumb traced the line of her jaw, traveling forward until it brushed her bottom lip. His other hand was gently cradling her elbow, and he pulled her closer, into a tighter embrace. With no armor to impede them, her chest pressed up against his and she let out a surprised exhale.

Wasting no time and proving he was still ever the opportunist, Claude leaned down and captured his wife’s escaping breath with his lips. At first, it was a chaste kiss, a simple press of their lips that reassured her that he was there, in the flesh, still clearly  _ needing  _ her. 

The kiss grew into quite the tease as he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. The sensual movement sparked something deep in her abdomen, the first flash of desire physically caused by him in so,  _ so  _ long. As she sighed in pleasure, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, softly caressing the side of her tongue in a lascivious way that made her think of  _ something else entirely _ . 

Byleth could feel the rapid beating of his heart against her own chest, a wild rhythm that bore testament to the intensity of his emotions. She could only imagine that her own would be beating just as wildly, like a stampede of wild horses swept away by the desire to roam free—if she had a heartbeat.

The arm that had been cradling her elbow crept upwards, crushing their bodies together. Desperate to be even closer than before, she slid her arms out from between them, wrapping them around his broad torso. They were whole, together, and she couldn’t imagine a more perfect end to her wedding day. 

As if Claude had heard her thoughts, he broke their kiss and leaned back ever-so-slightly, earning him a small whimper from Byleth. With another chuckle, he walked backwards, leading her towards the door that would take them back into the archbishop’s chambers. 

Once they were back inside in the warmth of the Monastery, surrounded by the heat of the fire they’d lit earlier, Claude spun her around to face him at arm's length. “You look so beautiful, it’s really a shame to have to take all of this off,” he murmured, his eyes trailing down the length of her body.

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “A shame? After that kiss, I certainly  _ expect  _ you to take it all off.”

He grinned up at her from beneath his unfairly long lashes, and the corner of his lips twitched in amusement. “I would hardly do you such a disservice, m’lady, don’t worry.”

His every word was steeped in sarcasm, and she laughed as he turned her around once again. He pulled her in for another embrace, and she sighed in contentment when she felt his strong chest against her back. Briefly, he rested his chin on her shoulder, matching her blissful exhale. Before long, he pulled away again, but this time, his fingers traced the path of the corset strings along her lower back.

“Sorry, Teach, seems like I’ve become more impatient in my old age. I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered, tugging at the base of her corset. The strings immediately loosened, and she felt the tension leaving her ribcage. 

Her eyes slid shut, and she breathed out a sigh of relief with every loop of string he unlaced. “Thank the Saints, because neither can I.”

She could feel the burn of excitement in his touch, and she knew if she were to reach for him, the same fire would threaten to consume them both. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

Once the corset was completely untied, he slowly peeled away the outer layer of her dress, bunching the fabric at the shoulders tightly in his hands. When he moved to push them further but got stuck, she curled in on herself, sliding her arms out of the lace sleeves with ease. After tugging the tight fabric at her wrists completely off, she shoved the bodice down to her waist and faced Claude with a heaving chest.

His gaze lingered on her lacy breast band, his own chest straining at the silken fabric of his finery. Slowly, almost reverently, he reached up and cradled the curve of her breast, the slightest of exhales leaving him when his fingers grazed her nipple. 

A shock rippled through her, and she gasped at the warmth of his touch on her skin. When the sound left her, his eyes met hers, darkening in lust. They transformed before her from the jewel-toned emerald she was used to, into mirroring the pine trees along the edge of the grounds surrounding Garreg Mach. The light of the flames in the hearth flickered in the depth of his eyes, and her breath stuttered at the sight.

“Byleth,” he murmured, stepping closer to grasp her breast fully in his palm. Though his hands were large, they didn’t quite cover the sheer size of her . . . gifts. A soft chuckle left him, deep and low with want. “My dreams hardly did these justice while I was away.”

“Dreamt about them, did you?” Byleth whispered, leaning into his touch with a soft moan.

Claude’s laugh grew, and the sound pulled at the tides of desire deep in her belly. “Oh yeah,” he breathed, leaning down to trace his lips along the curve of her breast. “I definitely missed you.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond, because he flicked her nipple with his tongue, sending a wave of pleasure crashing over her. A loud moan left her as she threw her head back and threaded her fingers into his chestnut hair. When he drew her entire nipple into his mouth and  _ sucked  _ through the white lace fabric, she couldn’t help pulling at his soft strands.

Her apology died in her throat when he let out a moan of his own, circling his tongue around her nipple in response. “Claude,” she breathed. “Claude, I—”

“I know, I know.” He pulled away, leaving the fabric cold and wet, and staring up at her from below. “I want you, too, Teach.”

“Then  _ take  _ me.”

“Hey, I’m trying to enjoy you little by little, take my time,” he teased as he rose to his full height.

“You can do that later.” Byleth quickly shimmied out of her gown all the way, letting the fabric pool at her ankles. Carefully, she stepped out of the dress, hanging onto Claude’s hand for support. “We have our whole lives to enjoy one another.”

A soft smile graced Claude’s face. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, in that case . . .” He trailed off, making quick work of his jacket and tossing it carelessly onto the floor without a second thought. 

She reached out and started unbuttoning his crisp, white shirt, and he pulled the tails out of his waistband with a huff. Once the buttons were dealt with, she all but shoved the shirt off his body, staring hungrily at the lean, but visible strength contained in her husband’s body. 

His chest was bare, noticeably so, and as she trailed her fingers across the expanse of skin, his breath caught in his throat. “That tickles,” he teased with a smile.

“Sorry, I just . . . you’re so smooth.”

“Hair gets caught in all the layers of clothing and armor, you know. Gotta be efficient on the battlefield.”

“Mm,” she hummed, leaning forward as she teased the outline of his nipples with her fingers. “I like it.”

As she ghosted her touch in a circle around his areola, it was his turn to grasp at her hair. “Happy to please.” 

She’d barely flicked at the tip of his nipple with her tongue when he reached down and lifted her into the air, his arms hooked under her thighs. Afraid of falling, she grasped at his shoulders with a surprised cry. He carried her over to the bed, nipping at the soft skin of her inner thigh before depositing her atop the downy covers.

“You can’t do something like that and not expect me to go crazy, you know,” he said, trailing his hands up her sides as he moved over her. 

“I could say the same to you.”

He tilted his head in a coy manner, in lieu of a verbal response before cupping her sizable breasts in his hands. Nudging her legs between his, he whispered, “Goddess, you’re beautiful.”

“I’d probably be more beautiful without this on,” she hinted.

“Touché.”

At that, she arched her back and he unclasped her breast band, pulling the fabric away and leaving her fully exposed for the first time that night. When the band hit the floor, he let out a long exhale. Equally as desperate to touch him, she slid her hands upwards, letting her fingertips trace the line of his abs as they led the way to his strong chest. 

Leaning down, he captured her lips in another kiss. This time, however, there was no chasteness involved. His tongue dove into her mouth, hungry for more, hungry to taste her. He kissed her deeply, reaching down to cradle her neck and tilt her head back for more leverage. The moan that left her would’ve embarrassed her at its intensity, had it not been swallowed up by him.

He broke away, leaving her feeling cold despite the fire roaring in the hearth, until he dragged his lips down the length of her neck, planting soft kisses in random places as he moved lower still. With the faintest of touches, he licked along the ridge of her collarbone as he drifted past. Her abdomen clenched in anticipation when he traced the curve of her breasts with the tip of his nose. 

Unlike earlier when he lavished her nipples with attention, he merely planted a small, open-mouthed kiss atop her right nipple before continuing downwards. 

Whimpering, she pulled at his hair again. “Claude, please.”

“I promise you, Teach, you don’t want me to stop there,” he said against the soft skin of her stomach.

Swirling his tongue in her navel briefly, he moved lower and finally grasped the top of her underclothes in his teeth, meeting her gaze before he slowly pulled it down off her hips. She lifted her body when he pressed his fingers into her flesh, and then he reached up to pull the fabric completely off. Soon, her underclothes were tossed aside as well, joining her breast band on the floor.

For a moment, he sat frozen, staring at the most intimate part of her. He was so close, she could feel his breath hitting her in miniscule puffs of air. Just when she thought she might go crazy from all the torturous waiting, he leaned in, planting a kiss against the juncture of her thigh and her sex.

She sucked in a deep breath and frantically reached down, trying to  _ touch him _ and feeling frustrated when she found he was too far. So in the moment, she felt rather than heard his answering chuckle. Without a word, he stretched up and entwined their fingers, even as he moved his lips to kiss the apex of her womanhood.

With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the pillows once more. She knew his seemingly romantic gesture actually had an ulterior motive: keep her hands from straying and distracting him from his task. But she couldn’t help it if all she wanted to do was reciprocate, to feel his skin against hers.

“Soon, Byleth,” he breathed, nuzzling the hood of her clit with his nose. “Let me make you feel good.”

Before she had a chance to respond, he tentatively pressed the flat of his tongue against the sensitive nub, causing her to jump in surprise. A wave of heat washed over her, and her back arched again, her body pleading for more.

Thankfully, Claude was beyond teasing. He slid his hands under her lower body, lifting her slightly to allow for more access, and licked from the base of her slit to the top. Byleth cried out, her hands gripping the sheets beneath them, desperate for some sort of purchase. 

He began alternating his ministrations, from soft kisses planted on the sides of her lower lips, to thrusting his tongue deep into her sex, to circling her clit from time to time. The unpredictable pattern was driving her absolutely insane, and the taut string of tension within her was pulling tighter still.

With every curve of his tongue, her moans became increasingly louder. She was thankful for the fact that no one else resided on the top floor of the Monastery; hopefully no one below could hear them—hear  _ her  _ as she fell apart in her husband’s arms.

Wound around him like the strands of her hair when he toyed with her, she tightened her grip on the sheets. “Claude, I can’t take it anymore. Please—!”

“Please, what?” he whispered, before encasing her clit with his lips and sucking ever-so-slightly.

“I need you, I need—”

Byleth was interrupted by the insistent pull of his mouth against her—his silent acquiescence to her request—and the sensation of the flat of his tongue pressing against her over and over again. It was all she needed to fall over the edge, and a keening cry left her as her back arched off the covers. 

His name became her mantra, and all she remembered over the next few moments was the sound of her voice breaking as she cried out for him. Faintly, the rustling of the sheets registered in her mind and then Claude was over her again, a self-satisfied smirk teasing at his lips.

“Don’t worry, Teach. I know what you need,” he murmured, before pressing his lips to hers once more. When his hardened length slid along her inner thigh, she gasped in surprise, opening up for him in more ways than one. As his tongue slid alongside hers, she opened her legs for him.

He hooked one of her strong thighs around his waist, pulling away to tilt his hips in the exact way he knew she needed. When she felt him pressing against her entrance, she reached for him, wanting to feel connected in every possible way. 

Though his gaze was heated by lust, it softened slightly when he laced their fingers together again. He moved his other hand between them, tracing the head of his manhood along her slickness and sighing in want. 

Byleth let out a sharp exhale, arching her back in frustration in an attempt to slide him in further. “If you don’t give me what I need soon, Claude, I—”

“All right, all right, and here I thought I was the impatient one,” he teased, pressing his hips forward— _ finally _ .

She felt every inch of him as he slid into her, letting out a breathy moan at the exquisite feel of his girth. When he bottomed out, he dropped his forehead into the curve of her shoulder with a groan. 

“Byleth, you feel—”

“I could say the same about you, my love,” she whispered, cradling his head in her hands. 

For a moment, they remained immobile, simply basking in the feel of each other. Finally, she grazed her nose against his temples, taking in the earthy scent that was so quintessentially him. It was laced with the sharp scent of pine, heightened by the heat of his body and the flames in the hearth beyond. She felt as if she were tucked into the embrace of the woodlands beyond the Monastery, beneath the star-littered sky above,  _ safe _ with him.

Eventually, he pushed up onto his hands, staring down into her eyes with a gaze so riddled with love, she felt breathless. When he retracted his hips, taking his length with him, she laced her arms around his waist, trying to pull him close again. 

So faintly that she might’ve missed it if she’d blinked, she saw him  _ wink _ , before he thrust into her once more. All the air in her lungs escaped her, and the force of his passion had her raking her nails across the wide expanse of his broad shoulders.

Over and over again, he took her, the intensity of his affection palpable around them. The sound of their lovemaking filled the room, punctuated by her loud cries and his deep grunts. When he looped an arm beneath her waist, lifting her pelvis higher and hitting her  _ just right _ , she squeezed her eyes shut with a cry. 

It was too much, too intense, and every time he hit that spot within her, she saw stars. Just before she reached the peak of her pleasure, he pulled out of her. Wrenching her eyes open with a savage frown, she huffed, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Her only response was a light chuckle, a ghost of a laugh, as he moved to the top of the bed. Once he was leaning against the headboard, legs spread wide and unashamedly displaying his hardened cock to her, he beckoned to her with his hand. 

“Come here, Teach. I want to see you move above me.”

A flush spread across Byleth’s cheeks, and she was unsure whether it was due to the heat in the room or the fire behind his words. But two could play at that game, and so she shifted her weight onto her hands and knees. Slowly, she crawled up his body, making sure to pause as she passed over his manhood to ghost the curve of her breasts against his rigid length. Briefly enough to simply tease, she trapped him within her breasts, rubbing the length of his cock with her ample cleavage. He tightened his grip on the sheets beneath them before trying to pull at her upper arm in an attempt to expedite her progress.

It was her turn to laugh softly, dodging his grasp and leaning down further to plant a kiss on the weeping head of his cock. He clenched his teeth so hard, she worried he’d hurt himself.

“Byleth, come  _ on _ .”

“Oh, this is payback, my love. Trust me, you’ll like it,” she teased, taking his length in hand and licking him from base to tip. 

Claude let out a loud groan as he threw his head back, and she heard it thump against the headboard, though she was sure he barely felt any pain. As was her intention, his focus was elsewhere. When she dragged her tongue under the ridge of his cock, he bucked his hips, desperate for more.

It was the final move that had him nearly undone. She took him fully into her mouth, sliding the wet, inner walls of her cheeks against his length. A choked grunt was the last thing she heard from him before he reached down and grabbed her by the arms, hoisting her up to straddle his hips.

“Enough, please” he begged, his voice hoarse and gravel-rough with need. “I need to be inside of you again.”

Without warning, he pulled her hips forward and slammed her down onto his length, letting out a guttural moan from deep within his chest once she’d taken him in to the hilt. She hadn’t expected this level of urgency; winding her arms around his neck, she buried her face in his hair as she keened in pleasure. 

With a grip that might’ve been slightly painful outside of the moment, Claude grasped her hips, encouraging her to rock her hips above him. Every time she moved forward, her clit pressed against his pelvis. A pulse of bliss coursed through her with each brush, and she let out a breathless moan at the pull of pleasure within her. 

Before long, she was moving without his guidance, desperately chasing the culmination of their lovemaking. He’d reclined, resting his weight on his palms to watch her breasts sway with every movement of her hips. He couldn’t push off his hands without throwing them both off balance, but he craned his neck down, taking one of her soft, pink nipples into his mouth without hesitation.

It was too much, too many sensations to comprehend. With one last upward thrust of Claude’s hips, Byleth broke apart above him. The only evidence of her coming apart around him was a quiet, shaky moan that escaped her as she bit into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He grunted at the sudden pain, finally finding his release within her as well. 

The world was quiet around them, whether it was actually so or because she couldn’t sense anything else in the afterglow of their passion, she wasn’t sure. Slowly, he leaned forward, encircling her with his arms and holding her close. With a sigh, he rested his forehead against her chest, his breaths erratically puffing over her skin.

As she finally came back into her own body, she leaned back and sat atop his thighs, pushing the sweat-slicked strands of his hair away from his face. The fire bathed them in its warm, orange glow, making her feel heated still, despite winding down from their shared moment of ardor.

Eventually, she lifted off of him, letting out a tiny sigh as she felt him slip out of her. Collapsing onto her side, she rested her head on her arms as she stared up at him from the pillows. He scooted back to lean against the headboard fully this time, casually draping the sheets over his hips as he met her gaze. 

The only hint she received at his upcoming mirth was the slightest twitch of his lips. “So, Teach. How’d I do? Did I pass?”

She playfully slapped at his thigh before resting her head on her arms again. “ _ Stop _ ,” she said with a laugh. “And I told you not to call me that!”

His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with humor. After a moment, he leaned down and captured her lips in a loving kiss that made her eyes sting with unbidden tears. When he leaned back, he reached up and traced her jaw with his fingers, before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

“Fine, then. Are you fully satisfied, my lovely  _ wife _ ?” 

Byleth smiled, one of her rare, genuine expressions that only a select few had seen over the course of her life. Her father, of course, though even then it had been infrequent. Perhaps Cyril once or twice, when she’d found his dedication to Rhea or Shamir absolutely adorable. 

But Claude? 

Her newly-annointed husband had seen this side of her the most—her happiness, her humor, awkward though it might be. In fact, he’d been the cause of it numerous times, more times than she could possibly count on both hands by this point. It was thanks to him that she could  _ feel _ . 

Reaching out to clasp his hand in hers, she traced the line of his fingers, so strong and worn, calloused by the demands of battle and hardship. But they held her with such gentleness, such care, that she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would always be there for her—no matter what the demands of both their roles might be.

Yes, she was satisfied, in more ways than one, in more ways she could’ve ever hoped to be. 

Finally, she looked back up at him, capturing his gaze without saying a word. A beat passed, and then two, and he tilted his head curiously when she still didn’t speak. Holding his hand tightly in her own, she offered a gentle smile.

“Of course I am, Claude. Because of you, because I love you.”

Claude returned her affection, a soft smile of his own gracing his face. “And I love you, Byleth. With everything I am.”


End file.
